by E. E. Cooper
“And since you’ve been comforting Brit’s boyfriend, you thought maybe you’d sit down at her table too?” I said. “If you’re looking for someone to forgive you, you’d better look somewhere else.”
Sara jumped up, her chair squealing on the floor. Her mouth quivered and her eyes were filling with tears. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.”
“You’ve helped plenty already,” I spat out.
Sara bolted, tripping and knocking over a trash can on her way out. Food and wadded-up napkins fell out onto the floor. A bunch of dickhead junior guys let out a cheer.
“She was trying to be nice,” Jason said. He loomed over me, his face hard.
For a split second, his anger scared me, then I stood so I could look him in the eye. “If she wanted to be nice, she shouldn’t have fucked my best friend’s boyfriend,” I hissed.
Jason jerked his head around to see if anyone had heard me. “We’re not talking about this here.”
“Why? Ashamed?” I cocked my head. “Why do you care if everyone knows you’re already nailing someone else?”
Jason took me by the elbow and tried to steer me toward the door. I yanked my arm back. Jason flinched. “Would you please come with me?” he asked.
I crossed my arms and followed him out of the cafeteria. I wanted to hear what he’d have to say for himself. We stepped around the corner so we could have some privacy.
“Look, I know you’re mad at me, and I get it,” he said. “You’re not the only one who blames me. I’ve been blaming myself plenty too. But at the end of the day, this was Brit’s decision. I’d give anything to change what happened, but Britney’s gone.”
“So that’s it? We just forget she was ever here?”
Jason rubbed his eyes. “No, of course not, but people can’t grieve forever.”
My mouth fell open. “Forever? It’s been, like, two weeks.”
Jason looked down. I hoped that look on his face was shame.
“If moving on is the right thing to do, why aren’t you telling people about you and Sara? Why are you letting everyone still think you were hooking up with Beth? Does it make it better for you to let the whole world think that Brit’s best friend also betrayed her, when really it was only you?”
Jason’s eyes were filled with misery. “I know I should tell the truth, but Brit is dead anyway, so the truth isn’t going to help her. Beth isn’t here to be hurt, but Sara is.”
“I don’t care about Sara,” I said.
“But I do. I love her. I didn’t mean to fall in love with her, and I sure as hell never meant to hurt Brit, but it happened.”
I did not want to feel sorry for him. “Well, I loved Beth and Brit, but that doesn’t mean it’s enough,” I said. I spun around and walked away.
If Britney knew how Jason was acting, she would be sick that she’d killed herself over him. It was still hard to believe that it had really happened. I wondered if Brit had believed it herself, if she’d truly understood that what she was doing would be so final. Or if, right until the end, some part of her believed that someone would stop her, someone would save her, or somehow it would all turn out to be a terrible dream.
I pictured her standing on the cliff above the water, curling her toes over the edge of the rock, preparing to jump. I imagined her turning her head when she heard a noise, and seeing Jason rushing toward her, shouting for her to stop, apologies falling from his lips. I imagined the sad, relieved smile that would have crossed her face as the wind whipped through her hair and dried her tears.
Then I imagined Jason looking at Brit but thinking of Sara, and realizing how much he had to lose. I pictured his face curling up in a snarl as, instead of saving Britney, he shoved her hard, pushing her over the edge of the cliff, listening as she screamed before her body hit the water and her head smashed into the rocks below.
I saw him standing there in shock, realizing what he’d just done. Then, pulling himself together as he realized too that she’d helped him get away with it. Britney would have already written the suicide note. No one would have to know what he’d done.
I squeezed my eyes shut. This daydream was crazy. Jason may have broken Brit’s heart, but that didn’t make him a monster. Just because I could imagine something was true didn’t make it true. Still, my stomach felt as if I’d filled it with lead. Was the idea that Jason may have killed Brit any harder to accept than the idea that Brit had killed herself?
I leaned against the wall. I didn’t want to go back in the cafeteria. It wasn’t like I was going to be able to eat anything more anyway.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Zach, probably, wanting to know the plan for tonight.
I’d vote for a movie. At least then I wouldn’t have to talk. I glanced at the notice on my screen. There was a strange buzzing in my ears. After all this time.
Beth.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hi K—
Surprise! Bet you thought you were never going to hear from me. I’m sorry I’ve been so out of touch. I promise I’ll explain everything soon. You’ll have to trust me that I can’t right now. It’s complicated.
How are you holding up? Thanks for telling me about Britney. I heard the funeral was beautiful and standing room only. How is everyone at school taking it?
I don’t want to use my old email and stuff (long story) and texting is complicated (even longer story!) so write me back at this address okay?
Beth
I stared at the email, trying to rearrange the words and letters into some sort of new pattern that would make more sense.
That was all she had to say? I shoved the phone back into my pocket.
Maybe I wouldn’t answer for a couple of days. Let her see what it feels like to be ignored. Let her wonder if something happened and her message didn’t get through and then realize that it did, but the other person couldn’t even be bothered to respond.
I chewed the inside of my cheek. There was no way I’d wait. I might like the idea of teaching Beth a lesson, but I wanted to talk to her more than I wanted to be in the right. I couldn’t even lie to myself.
I was going to have to lie to someone, though.
“No, don’t cancel on me,” Zach said. “Please.”
“I’m just not up for it tonight. Maybe next week,” I said.
“We could do something low-key, like a movie,” he said. “I really think it would be good for you to get out.”
I knew he was trying to be supportive, but I was irritated. I wanted to go home so I could reread Beth’s message in private and think about how to answer. I wanted to be alone. “I’m really tired. I haven’t been sleeping well. I need to go to bed early tonight.”
Zach sighed. “Kalah, I know how hard this is for you, but you have to at least try. It might feel like your life is over, but it isn’t. Come out with me. Do some of the things you used to do. Live. Brit would want you to be happy.”
That showed how little Zach understood Brit. She would love it if the rest of us never moved on.
But this wasn’t about Brit. It was about Beth. “I can’t go out and act like everything is fine,” I said.
“You’d be out with me. You don’t have to act,” Zach said, taking my hand.
How could I tell him I’d been acting for so long I didn’t even know who I really was anymore? “I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”
Zach’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “Fine.”
“Don’t be mad,” I said.
Zach shrugged like he was fine, but the tension in his shoulders told the truth. “I’m not mad.” He grabbed his bag off the floor and walked away.
Now both of us were lying.
I shut the door to my locker and headed down the hall. As I passed by the art room, my memory flashed on the last time I’d seen Britney in school, fighting in this hallway with Jason. The hair on the back of my neck went up, and for one crazy moment, I thought I could feel the presence of Britney’s ghost, standing there just beyond where I could see.
I peeked into the room. There was no floating specter, no ghost version of Britney.
I let out the breath I’d been holding. I was actually disappointed. Part of me had been hoping Britney would be there, my own personal ghostly advisor, like from one of the books she used to read. Dead, but not gone.
Brit would have known how to handle the email from Beth. She would know exactly what to say.
“Brit, I need you,” I said softly. I didn’t expect her to answer, but I was still sorry she didn’t.
Beth,
I was really glad to get your email. I’m sorry things are so messed up for you. I hope you know you can talk to me about anything, and if you don’t want to talk about everything that’s okay.
But you also have to know things have been difficult for me too.
You should have been at Brit’s funeral.
I miss you.
Kalah
I deleted the “I miss you” and then added it back in a thousand times. I didn’t want to come across as clingy, but I also wanted her to know how I felt. I was mad, but at the same time every atom in my body ached for her. There was an inescapable gravity still pulling me to her.
I’d barely sent the message when there was a ping indicating I had one in return. She must have been waiting for me to respond.
I know I let you down. I’m sorry.
B
It’s not just me. You let Brit down.
K
Let’s switch to chat. I’ll send you an invite. I want to explain and I can’t call.
B
I sat in front of the computer, waiting. My emotions kept shooting from one extreme to another—excited, nervous, relieved, furious. I wanted to jump up and down because she’d finally reached out and at the same time I wanted to shake her and demand she tell me how she could leave me.
The chat window opened with a beep and I leaned forward.
You’re right. I should have been at Brit’s funeral. I owed her that. Brit’s words scrolled across the screen. She deserved so much better. It shouldn’t have ended like that for her. How is everyone taking it?
People are still sort of shocked, I wrote.
Me too.
It’s been weird watching everyone at school react to it like it’s their own tragedy. I guess they’re allowed to be shocked and sad, but also . . . they didn’t know Brit like we did. They didn’t lose one of their closest friends. You know?
I know, she wrote. How’s the team reacting?
Same. Everyone wants to do something for Brit next year, maybe put a patch with her initials on our jerseys.
Then you guys would win State for sure.
I pushed aside some annoyance. I didn’t care about field hockey right now. Why didn’t you respond to my messages? I held my breath, waiting to see what she would say. I wanted her to have a good reason, something that would make her silence seem okay.
I’m sorry, K. It’s hard to explain. I wanted to start all over. I thought it would be easier if I just cut off all contact. Things with Brit and me were really complicated. Obviously.
My foot was tapping and I forced myself to stop. What about things between us? I typed.
Not complicated at all, she responded.
I wanted that to mean good things, but I worried it could go either way. I will always be here for you, I told her.
I thought you might be pissed. Because of the thing with Jason. How is he? Is he sick about what he did to Britney? I bet everyone hates him. And me, of course.
I guessed she didn’t want to talk about us. I was angry at first. Since I hadn’t heard from you, I thought it might really be true. Maybe I should have known better, but everyone was so convinced. I hate that Brit died thinking that you betrayed her. I wish she could have known the truth.
I waited for Beth to answer, but there was no response. I’m sorry, I’m not blaming you, I wrote. It’s just been really hard. But of course you would never have done that to Brit. I considered adding that I knew she wouldn’t have done that to me either, but then she started typing.
Who was Jason with?
A sophomore named Sara Green. There was no response, so I kept going. People don’t know yet, but he told me the day after. She looks a bit like you, so I guess that’s how the rumors started.
Still nothing. I wish you’d come back and set the record straight, I wrote.
It’s a little late for that now.
I swallowed against my disappointment. That wasn’t the response I’d wanted.
WTF. Sara? Are you kidding me? Beth wrote. I can’t believe Brit killed herself over nothing. She should have stayed and just crushed Sara. No way would he have picked her over Brit in the end. I stared at the screen. That was kind of a weird reaction.
Jason still hasn’t told anyone else, I wrote. He’s letting everyone still think it was you because he wants to protect Sara.
Wait. He’s still dating her? After Brit died?! I could practically see Beth’s outrage pulsing through the screen.
He says he really loves her.
NO FUCKING WAY, Beth wrote.
I know. And I hate that he did this to Brit. But also I feel kinda bad for him sometimes.
Why? He deserves to be shot. Or castrated. Or both. Whose side are you on?
I should have known Beth would react that way. I just meant that sometimes love can get confusing. I shut my eyes, afraid to see what she’d say.
I’ve never been that confused, I saw when I opened them.
I paused. Once again, her words could mean anything.
Besides, look at you and Zach. No confusion there, Beth typed.
That was a low blow. But she had a right to be angry about him and me. And at least we were finally talking about this. Is that why you left? I wrote.
Honestly, Kalah, I don’t even know what you mean. For the record, sometimes it’s not about you.
I felt two inches tall. When are you coming home?
Never. I can’t.
You can, I insisted.
You have no idea what I’m dealing with, Beth wrote. It was a mistake to contact you. Just forget me.
I wanted to reach through the screen and throw myself against her and beg her to take it back. She couldn’t disappear on me again now. Not when I’d finally just gotten her back. Please don’t say that. Hearing from you means everything.
There was no response.
I lost Brit. I don’t know if I can handle losing you too. If you can’t come back, fine, but promise me you’ll be in touch again.
Beth still didn’t reply. My foot tapped like mad below the desk. Please don’t do this to me, I begged. I didn’t care if I sounded desperate. I was desperate.
I watched the cursor pulsing like a heartbeat.
Okay. I’ll be in touch, Beth wrote. Before I could say thank you, she had already signed off.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I stood back a few feet while Chester turned the combination on Britney’s locker. It opened with a pop.
“There you go,” she said, giving me a smile that looked more like a grimace before she left me to my task.
My hand rested on the locker door. It felt momentous pulling it open, like opening King Tut’s tomb. Hopefully neither Chester or I would end up cursed. Maybe I would make sense of Britney’s death by the artifacts she’d left behind.
It was eerie in the empty hallway, entirely too quiet. The office had given me permission to skip gym class to clean out Brit’s stuff. Principal Hamstead didn’t want there to be a crowd around when I did it. Someone might take pictures and try to sell them to the media. Anything from Brit’s life was practically a holy relic. The week of the funeral I’d turned on the TV and seen Melissa reverently holding Brit’s hockey stick while she was interviewed. I’d turned it off before I kicked the screen.
The school would have had Chester clean out the locker, but Brit’s parents didn’t want that. Dr. Ryerson had called and told me how they couldn’t stand the idea of a stranger “pawing” throug
h Brit’s things. I couldn’t tell her I didn’t want to do it, that it still felt too raw. This was yet another reminder that Britney was gone.
Beth was gone again too, apparently. Four days had passed since our Friday-afternoon emails and chat. I’d had no new messages from her all weekend. I was wearing my phone battery down from constant checking. I’d even had Zach send me an email Monday morning, in case my phone wasn’t getting messages right. The phone worked fine. I’d given up.
I swung the door open. A sour-sweet smell wafted out of the locker. Something had rotted. I spotted Brit’s lunch bag up on the shelf. I grabbed it between two pinched fingers and tossed it directly into the trash can I’d dragged over, without even risking a look inside.
The knowledge that Brit’s body must be rotting now too hit me with a thud. I imagined her skin, soft and bloated from almost three weeks in the water. Her flesh loosening from the bones. I backed up, gagging. I bent over and put my hands on my knees, sucking in clean air. I shoved the image out of my head. When I was sure I had control, I approached the locker again, breathing through my mouth to avoid any hint of the smell.
I took Britney’s sweater off the hook, folded it up carefully, and put it in the box the office had provided. She had a pair of ballet flats at the bottom of the locker. I slipped my foot out of my shoe and tried one on. They fit Cinderella perfect. I kicked it off and put the flats in the box along with her textbooks. Wearing the shoe made me feel uncomfortable, like I might be next.
Brit had papered the inside of her locker with pictures of her friends and glossy pages from magazines. There were photos of her and Jason, one of the entire field hockey team covered in mud after a game, and one of her and me and Beth. It was at the mall. Christmastime. The three of us perched on Santa’s lap. Beth was laughing so hard that her face was blurred. Brit had a perfect model smile, and I was grasping a nearby giant stuffed penguin to keep from falling off the lap. I peeled the picture off the metal door and stared at it.